


A Squire's Song

by betweenstars



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Slow Build, sansa x podrick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2020-03-29 11:03:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenstars/pseuds/betweenstars
Summary: This story is intended to provide a backstory for Podrick, an excellent squire who always dreamed of being a true knight and finding a lady to fight for. He never thought that lady could be Sansa Stark.Will be heavily based on ASoIaF, but elements will be drawn from GoT as well!Rated M for future scenes between Podrick & Sansa.





	1. Podrick I

She was a vision in pale, purple silk, with fire for hair and blue eyes that he could surely dive into. The Lady Sansa Stark.

He had heard bits of gossip over the years about House Stark. A brood that favoured their Tully mother in looks, except for their youngest daughter, and of course, the famous bastard of Winterfell. The children had each received their own direwolf beast, though one had been killed after marring King Joffrey's arm…

Pod glanced to the king and noticed his absolute disdain over Lord Tyrion's arrival. He watched Joffrey grow furious as his younger siblings celebrated the appearance of their uncle with glee. It was the king's name day and he clearly didn't like someone stealing the attention. 

Tyrion greeted Sansa and Pod shot his eyes back toward the lady, waiting for her to speak. But she did not respond. Her face was struggling to remain blank. In fact, her whole demeanour looked braced against the eyes and words turned toward her, like at any moment they could turn into a personal barrage. He suddenly felt ashamed and averted his eyes down to his feet.

"I'm sorry my lady mother took you captive, my lord."

She spoke and a small sigh escaped Pod's lips. Her voice was beautiful, poised and highborn, but he could hear the sadness behind her words. Of course she was sad, how could she not be? She was betrothed to a king who always looked three seconds away from a tantrum. A king who ordered the execution of her father. And gods, Podrick shared the family name of the monster who carried out the order! The squire stared more intently at his feet as a blush crept up the back of his neck. He was vaguely aware of Bronn standing next to him, eyeing his curious behaviour.

Podrick had never met Ser Ilyn Payne, but his uncle, Ser Cedric, never failed to remind him of Tywin Lannister's favourite executioner every few days of his childhood.

"The King's Justice," Cedric would say through gritted teeth. "Couldn't read. Couldn't write! But he could swing his sword bloody fast and bloody hard. He was made for killing men."

Podrick would dutifully refill Cedric's wine goblet after this statement, all the while picturing his distant cousin hacking through faceless enemies.

"And what did that get him, boy?"

"No t-ton--"

"No tongue! No tongue to go with his complete lack of brains. Bloody mute." Cedric would always shout this at Podrick, misting his face with sour liquid.

"But I won't let that happen to me. I'll prove myself to the Lannisters and be rewarded with a suitable wife. I'll make sure my children are well-matched and return this house to glory. Ilyn Payne won't get married or father children. Not that any maid would care to get near his pox ridden face. No, it will have to be me. Your father was a good squire, but that's all he was. No ambition.

"We'll see how you get on. Maybe I'll give you over to Ilyn, see what he makes of you. Off to the kitchen, boy, and help the cook!"

During the first year that Podrick lived with Cedric, he would have regular nightmares of a pox-faced man holding an enormous sword to his neck, with an open-mouthed smile that revealed his complete lack of tongue. This dream and his uncle's threat frightened Podrick so much that he would never make a fuss performing his duties and never speak out. The only one to coax him from his silence was the old cook. In truth, he didn't mind helping out in the kitchen one bit.

Pod never learned her name -- she told him to call her Granny Cook. She had lost her former master, husband, and two sons to Robert's Rebellion, so she took to Podrick like he was her own. As he scrubbed dishes or mixed stew she would regale him with stories of the Seven or heroic legends she had learned over the years. Podrick paid close attention to any story about the true knights, like Ser Galladon the Perfect Knight, or Ser Serwyn of the Mirror Shield! His favourite of all was Ser Duncan the Tall. He often imagined himself as Ser Dunc's squire, Egg, living a life of adventure. Anything was preferable to living with Cedric's incessant orders.

Granny Cook was no scholar, but she taught Pod his letters, how to read a recipe and write a list of ingredients. Ser Cedric didn't own any books, but on rare occasions, his uncle would let Pod look at old letters of correspondence. He would struggle, but Granny Cook would assist him as much as she was able. Pod often wondered what would become of her when she realized that he and Cedric wouldn't be returning home from battle. He must remember to ask Lord Tyrion to help locate her.

Podrick snapped to attention as a sharp elbow met his side.

"Your fancy lord is making his exit, so stop whatever it is that you're doing, aye?" Bronn nodded to Tyrion who was bowing toward Lady Sansa. Podrick nodded and hurried after his lord who was making his way in the direction of the drawbridge. He glanced back to look at Lady Sansa, but saw only her auburn hair as it disappeared behind a corner. Bronn caught this behaviour and rolled his eyes.


	2. Podrick II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pod starts his life as a squire in the Red Keep - but will he ever see his red-haired lady again?

"Your chamber will be through there, it adjoins my bedchamber as well. The solar is down the hall and you'll show visitors to this room…"

Podrick looked around in wonder. Climbing the spiral staircase had made him dizzy, to be sure, but the Tower of the Hand - the whole Red Keep! - was the grandest building he had ever been in.

His room was modest: a bed in the corner, a wardrobe, a desk and small chair. But it also had a tall window that overlooked the courtyard. He felt like he was flying as high as the birds who stopped to perch on his windowsill.

"Podrick, are you listening to me?"

"Sorry, ser. My Lord. Lord Tyrion." Pod blushed and turned his attention back to his small Lord.

"Yes, I suppose this is rather lofty accommodation." Tyrion conceded with a glance out of Podrick's window. He spied a few squires training in front of the armoury and surveyed his own scrawny servant.

"Pod, what training have you received?"

"None, my Lord." he looked out the window longingly.

"Tomorrow you'll go to see Ser Santagar about training with the other boys. He's the master-at-arms." Tyrion ran a hand through his hair as he thought of the myriad of other topics the boy would need to be schooled on.

"Very good my Lord, I will not disappoint you." A smile spread across Podrick's face. It was the smoothest sentence Tyrion had heard him speak since they had met.

"Yes, well, the training befits your nobility and status as a squire. But as my squire, I also expect you to train your mind. Tell me, can you name the Houses of the Westerlands? Identify them by their sigils or their words?"

Pod turned scarlet and shook his head.

"My Lord. I. My uncle, Ser Cedric. Granny Cook taught me to read. Ser Uncle didn't have many books of his own. But your uncle, Ser Lannister, would teach me in the evening and he did say, before I was sent to you, my Lord, that I was a quick learner." Podrick was very aware that Tyrion was gazing at him with incredulity.

"Uncle Kevan is an intelligent man. Let us see how his tutelage and…Granny Cook's have prepared you for the library. Go and borrow the History & Heraldry of the Westerlands, you'll start there, it is important to know your fellow bannermen. Pay particular attention to the Lannister bits, I will quiz you!" Tyrion said the last part in jest but Pod gulped with wide eyes and shook his head frantically.

And so Podrick went to see the master-at-arms. He would spend a few hours each day training at dawn with the other pages and squires, some much younger than him.

They would begin by running thrice along the perimeter of the godswood. This was followed by sparring (Pod's lack of experience grouped him with the young pages using wooden swords) and then archery. When this was done, Pod would run to wash and get dressed so he could ready Lord Tyrion's garb and collect his breakfast from the kitchen.

He would then assist Tyrion with his morning meetings, which largely meant he was to refill Lord Tyrion's wine. The liquid disappeared at such an alarming rate that Pod wasn't wholly convinced the goblet didn't have a small hole in the bottom. It only took Pod a few days to realize that keeping a small stockpile of wine in his own chambers would save him running up and down the Tower staircase to request more from the kitchen.

During the afternoon Small Council meetings, Podrick would use a small room nearby to study the Westerlands. Kevan Lannister had taught him how to figure out long sentences or passages, but Granny Cook had shown him how to memorize new letters or words. Pod dutifully sketched each sigil 10 times over with their accompanying house names. He didn't have colours, only charcoal and ink, so he would scribble the names of the tinctures and chargers alongside the sigils and draw arrows to their location.

When he was sure the basics were in his head he moved on to House words, their seats, and current lords. He would often fall asleep to visions of castles and goldmines, and once or twice woke himself up muttering, "Our Blades are Sharp...Growing Strong...!"

Pod's routine came to feel gruelling and monotonous. He often found himself falling asleep in a chair or leaning against a wall when Lord Tyrion was out of sight. And on the few days that morning training was cancelled, he would draw his curtains and let Lord Tyrion do his own waking. Sometimes his muscles ached so much, and his head felt so full, that he would find himself aimlessly wandering the Keep, even as the plate of warm food he often carried chilled.

With his workload, he nearly forgot about his fair-skinned, red-haired, lady. But he very fortunately overslept training one morning, missed the run entirely, and received swift punishment from Ser Santagar to return in the evening for chores: Pod was tasked to wash and polish the training equipment in the armoury. The helmets and swords were not so dirty, and there were not so many, but Pod knew all his work would simply be undone in the morning. And Ser Santagar knew it as well.

Once this was complete he was to do the godswood run by himself two times over. The light had started to fade but at this point, Pod knew the path by heart. He ran through the trees and only jumped a few times at strange, passing shadows or a startling hoot of an owl. On his final lap, he spotted a torch moving through the woods toward the central weirdwood. Pod stayed his heavy breathing and crept closer for a better look - his eyes alighted on Lady Sansa.

She knelt in front of the faced tree and stuck her torch in the ground. She stared into its red eyes for a few moments and then Sansa began to sob into her hands. Podrick wanted nothing more than to run over to her and give her comfort as a true knight would. But he was a very much in-training squire. So instead, he clutched the tree in front of him.

He watched her for a few minutes, but to him, it felt like hours. He memorized the grey dress she was wearing and the outline of her nose and chin, the way the tears carefully dripped down them. With each cry that escaped her lips, he dug his fingernails into the bark tighter. Finally, his stomach let out a low rumble and the spell was broken. He retreated back to the shadows and silently edged along the godswood until he could slip through the exit unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure if I would keep posting chapters, but the first chapter got a lot of love and an amazing compliment so I'll do my best to update regularly!!


	3. Podrick III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for everyone's encouraging comments!!!
> 
> Hope you're all safe from the pandemic xx

Pod had just gotten used to his training routine when the Bread Riot occurred. He had been in the Tower, reviewing a map of the Westerlands, when he'd heard frantic shouting and horses pouring into the outer bailey.

Quickly he ran down the staircase and over the drawbridge to push through the throng of lords, ladies, knights and horses to meet his Lord Tyrion. He dodged through just enough people to see Tyrion deliver a kick to King Joffrey. The action stopped Pod in his tracks, stunned.

When Tyrion started calling for the Stark girl, Podrick remembered his duties and again began to make his way to Tyrion's side. He then kept back as Bronn shoved in front of Tyrion, ready to face Ser Boros who was clearly charged for blows. What on earth had happened with the smallfolk to cause this?

The Hound appeared in the gateway on horse with Sansa clutching his middle. Pod quickly registered blood running down her cheek from a head wound, bright yellow yolk on her sleeve and dung on her skirts. Strands of her auburn hair had been pulled loose from the net of moonstones that held it and her other sleeve was held onto the rest of her dress by threads.

He glanced at Joffrey who, aside from the dung on his temple and hits from his uncle, looked completely unscathed. He looked like a scared, petulent child as his servants pulled him to his feet and led him away. As they took him to Maegor's Keep, Pod heard him shout for his crown.

Podrick finally fell into step beside his lord as Tyrion approached the entrance to the Tower, guarded by two of the Stone Crows.

"Pod, get food and wine. Eat something yourself as well, I'll need you posted outside the solar at all times. It is going to be a very busy night."

"Of course, my Lord." As Pod hurried away to the kitchen he heard Tyrion asking for Timmett son of Timmett...

Podrick delivered a plate of bread and capon along with a large basket of wine. Tyrion quickly grabbed a bottle and motioned for his squire to get to his post. Ser Jacelyn Bywater arrived shortly to meet with Tyrion, and Podrick listened as the list of the slain was reviewed. Nine gold cloaks, the High Septon, Ser Preston, and Ser Santagar. Pod closed his eyes and offered a short prayer for the master-at-arms. At one point, Pod let a few of the other servants in the room to light a fire, only to immediately usher them out as Tyrion let out a roar. 

"Leave us at once! If I want fire, I'll get some from Flea Bottom, _which is currently ablaze!_ "

Pod quickly gathered the remaining facts of the riot and thanked the gods that Lady Sansa had been saved by the Hound, a much better fate than Lady Tanda's daughter, Tollys, had received. They found her naked, wandering the streets, after having been raped by gods knows how many men. Podrick imagined himself in the riot as a true knight. He would have had the strength and skill to protect them all - better yet, he would have prevented the riot in the first place! He surely would have spotted the first dissenter and dealt with them swiftly. Pod sighed as he realized that the death of Ser Santagar meant any future training was very dubious indeed. He was startled from his daydreaming when Tyrion let out another shout, this time for Pod to bring him Bronn and Varys at once. 

***

For the first few days following the riot, the pages and squires continued their training on their own. But one by one, the boys gave up. Without someone to hold them accountable and fix their stance, the self-training seemed pointless. Pod, however, diligently continued to practice his archery and sought sparring partners in the courtyard when he had the time. The battle against Stannis Baratheon's men was fast approaching and Podrick was determined to serve his lord well on the field. Tyrion's wildlings were always happy to assist his efforts, but the bouts often left Pod beaten, bruised and disheartened - Shagga often laughed with a wide smile as he went for his blows. Sometimes Bronn would give him lessons, but they happened so sparingly that Pod didn't make much progress. Pod continued his runs in the godswood, sometimes in the evening on the off chance Lady Sansa would be there, but he never managed to spot her there again. Occasionally he would see her from his window, riding in the bailey. She would spend a good amount of time brushing and feeding her horse, no doubt enjoying the company of a creature that wasn't out to hurt her.

Podrick was thankful that his Lord Tyrion always treated Lady Sansa with kindness. He was truly the best of the Lannisters, and Pod was very proud to be his squire, even when tasked to read 'Notes on the Houses and Lords Paramount of the Stormlands'. There really were a tedious amount of houses to keep track of, he didn't understand how the maesters dedicated their lives to studying the history and sciences of the realm.

Tyrion was preoccupied with plans and strategies, but he did in fact, find time to quiz Podrick on the Westerlands. He often corrected Pod's pronunciations of surnames, but other than that, Pod had proven himself a quick learner, which pleased Tyrion.

"Now, if you could just get rid of that stammer people might actually believe you're intelligent." Tyrion commented after Podrick had gotten particularly tongue-tied describing House Westerling's sigil of six seashells on white sand.

"Did you learn anything of your own house, Pod?"

Podrick shook his head, "I skipped it, my Lord. I've learned what I need. From Uncle Cedric. And there's only myself and cousin, Ser Ilyn, left now. It doesn't matter what I've come from, only that I take pride in what I do. Going forward."

"If only it were so easy for the rest of us to make new, reputable choices for our family name." Tyrion smiled at the boy warmly. Pod was naive, but he was true and loyal. He hoped the boy's future wouldn't be sullied by the simple fact that he was the Imp's squire.

"You have, my Lord. Made reputable choices. I'm sorry they don't see it. All the others, in the castle. I'm glad to be your servant. Your squire." Podrick sputtered with a crimson face.

"Thank you, Pod," Tyrion nearly blushed himself and tipped his goblet in Pod's direction. "But if we don't survive the coming battle, my choices will hardly matter, will they?


End file.
